


The Touch

by koenigs_bambina



Series: Well, That's New [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Jealousy, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koenigs_bambina/pseuds/koenigs_bambina
Summary: After their first kiss, Deacon keeps Cherry at arm's length. However, when Danse's secret is discovered and Cherry is the one to comfort him, Deacon begins to get uncomfortable.(Partner piece to The Kiss)" “Yes, thank you soldier… Cherry.” He replied softly, caution coloring the tone of untravelled territory.Eugh. Deacon shuddered. He hardly used Charmer’s real name, and hearing it come out of Danse’s mouth was just wrong."





	The Touch

“Fuck… I… _Fuck.”_ Deacon sputtered, pacing back and forth across Sanctuary’s splintered, patchy bridge with distress plastered across his features. The muscles in his chest constricted uncomfortably, and his stomach filled with a sick, fluttering anticipation.

It had been a long time since he had experienced this sort of sudden, inescapable distress; it was something in the vague ballpark of the night he had lost Barbara.

But this time, it was because of that _jack-off_ , Danse.

Cool wind slid across his skin, giving a slight reprieve to the feverish sheen that had developed in his panic. Thank _God_ he was out there alone because it was starting to look like he had finally lost his cool.

Though a livid shout at the back of his mind reminded him that there was _one_ person he would give anything to be with at that moment. The one person who always knew how to bring him back from the edge. But she was unfortunately indisposed at the moment.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks, hands slapping down on the rail, no doubt leaving him with a bitch of a splintered hand.

“ _Fuck._ ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had all begun when Cherry came sprinting into Sanctuary that morning.

Deacon had been messing with MacCready, attempting to convince him that Deathclaw nests were filled to the brim with caps.

“Honest!” he grinned, holding up his hands in a disarming fashion, “they love how shiny and colorful bottle caps are, so they collect them!”

MacCready cocked his head and opened his mouth to disagree, but a small glimmer in his eyes told Deacon that at some point in the future, he would be tearing apart one of those nests.

Then Charmer appeared. She made a beeline for Deacon, exhaustion and desperation evident in the heavy stomp of her feet. She doubled over as she reached him, bracing herself on her knees as she coughed and gasped for air.

“Charmer, what is it?” Deacon asked gripping her shoulders and pulling her upright to look at him. Her face was contorted with concern, a gash in her forehead leaving a stream of blood down her cheek. He looked down at her body and noticed that her vault suit was torn, as well-- three large slashes that looked suspiciously like Deathclaw marks, left angry wounds on her side. “ _Shit,_ ” he choked out, looking to MacCready for help, but the poor kid was practically sputtering at the sight of their injured friend. Deacon began to pat frantically at his pockets, hoping that he could find a stimpack.

But Cherry just stilled his arm, shaking her head. “It’s alright, they look worse than they feel. I had a couple run-ins on my way back here.”

“On your way back from _where_?”

“The Prydwen.”

Deacon’s face went blank. He knew that Dez had her keeping undercover with those asshats, but she had never come back from a mission with them so banged up-- so bent out of shape. Fury ignited deep within Deacon at the thought of them touching the woman who had become his very best friend. He hated the Institute with a deep passion, but they at least had the intelligence to have _some_ self-awareness with what they were doing. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, were a bunch of self-righteous bigots who didn’t care what they destroyed, all in the name of proving a point.

Deacon exhaled slowly, attempting to keep a level tone as he asked, “God, Charmer… what did they do to you?”

She shook her head again and coughed, “Not me…” Deacon cocked his head at her, and she swallowed hard against the burning sensation in her throat. “It’s Danse. He’s… Danse is a synth.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Deacon spent about ten minutes asking if she was fucking with him and making her repeat the story every few minutes, they finally headed out.

“Listening Post Bravo,” Cherry said as they jogged out of town, “that’s where Haylen said he would be.”

“How do you know she was telling the truth?” Deacon prodded, infamous trust issues getting the better of him. They kept him safe, sure, but it sure made it a bitch to try and get close to him. But somehow, Charmer had made her way through his defenses.

Cherry rolled her eyes and kept up her pace. “Because Haylen knows that I care about him as much as she does.”

Deacon grimaced and shook his head with distaste. It wasn’t that he hated Danse; the guy was just a product of the environment he was raised in. He had actually made pretty great strides towards acceptance since Charmer had entered his life.

But he was still part of the Brotherhood of Steel. And he was still, _somehow_ , a huge part of Cherry’s life. It drove him crazy.

Unfortunately for him, Charmer was as perceptive as she was charismatic, and she noticed his disgust at the comment. However, instead of her usual snarky comebacks, she just turned her eyes back to the road and sighed.

If he hadn’t known how upset she was about this whole ordeal, he would have made some defensively smart comment about her having a crush on “The Brave Little Toaster.” But even Deacon knew when to leave well enough alone. Besides, he had given Charmer so much crap for her relationship with Danse in the past that it was beginning to come off as jealousy. Which was ridiculous. Deacon didn’t get jealous. Especially because there was nothing between him and his partner… or his partner and Danse.

For the rest of the journey, the two remained in contemplative silence, both wondering what the other was thinking, and both never vocalizing what they felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, they made it to the bunker. Danse was deep within the facility, behind a mess of reflexively set traps that made it a bitch of a time to get to him. And once they fought their way through his defenses, it was an entirely different battle to convince him that he didn’t deserve to die just because he wasn’t human. But, as always, Charmer was able to coax him out of the bunker with them.

“You’re my friend and I care about you, Danse. You’re no less of a person just because you’re a synth.”

      Danse protested at that, of course, but he relented to her pleading. And though he felt paranoid for noticing, Deacon could swear that there was a glimmer of something more than grateful friendship in Danse’s eyes as he looked down at Charmer.

          He shook off the uncomfortable feeling for the second time that day and kept his eyes forward. They were there to save a synth. Sure the synth was an ass, but he was a synth nonetheless.

         Fortunately for Deacon, the inner battle between wanting to be a good agent and wanting to knock Danse’s legs out from under him was cut short by the appearance of Elder Maxson himself, demanding Danses’ head on a pike.

       Deacon knew it wasn’t the time or place, but he couldn’t help but be tickled that Maxson was oblivious to his chosen executor being one of The Railroad’s finest agents, dedicated to saving the things he vowed to destroy.

        If it had been anyone else, their cover would have been blown, and Maxson would have been firing on them all. But it was Charmer, and by God did she work a spell on that man.

        “Danse has done more for your organization than any other Paladin. He has worked for you, _bled_ for your cause. He deserves more respect than this.”

         “You’re a stubborn woman.” Maxson fumed, clenching his fists as though he were about to strike. But after a moment or so of tense silence, he sighed and threw out his hands. “It seems that we’ve arrived at an impasse.”

Cherry nodded tightly, eyes narrowed as her fingers brushed the butt of her rifle.

Maxson glowered at the show of insubordination, but turned his gaze to Danse, nonetheless. “...Danse, as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead. From this day forward you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwen or contact anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“Thank you for your faith in me, Arthur.” Danse accepted, a sad ghost of pride flickering in his eyes.

“Do not mistake my mercy for acceptance,” Maxson warned in reply, shifting his vicious gaze back to Cherry. “I’m returning to the Prydwen, Knight. Take your time, say your goodbyes, and then I expect to see you there.”

She agreed to his demands with a respective confirmation, but Deacon could see the wheels turning in her mind, finding loopholes and excuses to show up late and be seen in public with Danse.

       And with one more moment of livid consideration, Maxson was gone; leaving them to contemplate the aftermath of what had happened.

      “Sooo…” Deacon began, breaking the silence, “welcome to the family, pal!” He stuck his hand out to shake Danse’s, but the newly-exiled Paladin just glared down at him.

       “I am _not_ part of your family. Just because I am choosing not to die does not mean that I am any less of an abomination.”

       “Right,” Deacon responded after a moment of uncomfortable silence, grin still unfailing, “always a pleasure, my guy.” And with one last shoot of some finger guns, he spun off to the side to let Charmer have her go at a conversation with Danse.

       “Are you alright?”

       Danse’s eyes lit up with the same emotion that Deacon had noticed earlier— this time with more direction, more focused intent. It made Deacon’s ears burn and his stomach churn in a way that he definitely didn’t want to think about.

“Yes, thank you, soldier… Cherry.” He replied softly, caution coloring the tone of untravelled territory.

_Eugh._ Deacon shuddered. _He_ hardly used Charmer’s real name, and hearing it come out of Danse’s mouth was just wrong.

They continued an exchange about how much they cared about each other and what they would do next. Charmer begged him to stay in the Commonwealth, despite Maxson’s warning about never wanting to see Danse again. He protested for what had to be the millionth time that day, but as Charmer stepped towards him and placed her hand on his arm with a pleading look in her eyes, his determination faltered. Not too long after that, Danse was agreeing to follow them back to Sanctuary, vowing to be by her side whenever she needed him.

And for some odd reason, the way that Charmer’s eyes lit up at the promise made Deacon’s stomach drop to his feet. The feeling stayed with him as they started the long journey home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a bit of an impromptu party when they got back. Cherry didn’t explain much, but she insisted that she and her ragtag team of companions get belligerently drunk in the name of Paladin Danse. And although many of them hadn’t warmed up to the grumpy soldier, no one was in a position to say no to a night of relaxation and drinking.

So, after changing into whatever they could muster as party clothes, everyone headed over to the ramshackle bar that Cherry has constructed as a pick-me-up for the settlement. Deacon remained in his t-shirt and jeans; according to him, the combination was a classic outfit to “get down” in, and who was he to disrespect the past? Cherry rolled her eyes at that, having had taken the opportunity to bust out one of her prewar dresses that hadn’t been destroyed with time. Deacon had to admit that she looked pretty fantastic, though he could have done without Danse chiming in to agree.

       Once everyone was dressed to the nines and ready to destress, Cherry declared a toast that consisted of four consecutive shots. Deacon beamed at his partner’s eager expression and took two with the group, subtly pouring the others into Danse’s beer when he wasn’t looking. As much as he loved to cut loose and goof off, the Railroad’s intel man couldn’t allow himself to blackout within the first hour of an evening.

Everyone else, however, seemed determined to do exactly that. Music was blaring from the radio, boisterous drinking games were being played, and people were drinking as if the world hadn’t already ended. It was a nightmare for an agent that spent all of his time and effort flying under the radar.

But every time Deacon began to get overwhelmed by all the commotion, Charmer caught his eye and gave him an award-winning smile that melted his worries.

       It was always like that with them. Though Deacon never let onto his negative emotions, Charmer could always tell, and she _always_ had something comforting to say or do. And when she had her moments of panic, Deacon was there with a bit that would distract from the fear. They balanced each other out. Well, mostly Charmer would balance him out, and he would just annoy her into feeling better. But it worked, and Deacon wouldn’t have it any other way.

      His face screwed up at the realization. He hadn’t felt so comfortable with someone since… well, ever. Even with Barbara, it was a constant battle of accepting himself for his mistakes and shielding what he had done from her. But with Charmer… she knew it all. He had opened the closet door for her, and she laid his skeletons to rest, one by one.

      Deacon looked around again, a soft warmth filling him as he watched his partner throw down cards with a triumphant grin, followed by a collection of groans from her friends.

       Charmer was without a doubt the most important person to him in the whole Commonwealth… and he had been keeping her at arm’s length. Deacon sighed and threw back the rest of his drink. He knew that he was going to drive her away if he didn’t take some sort of leap of faith. Danse was already edging his way between them, and it was driving Deacon up the wall.

       He had to do _something_ to let her know that he was in this; that it was just going to take him some time to get used to being close to someone again. And Deacon’s slight fuzz of liquid courage told him that he needed to do it that night, that _moment,_ or he would lose out on the best thing that had happened to him in years.

      Deacon snatched Piper’s whiskey bottle from her hand, waggling his brows as she slurred out a protest. He took a large pull for some extra confidence, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up to catch Charmer’s eye.

But this time, her hazel gaze was nowhere to be found. He scanned the room a few times to no avail. Charmer was no longer there.

“Hey Piper, you know everything,” Deacon began, pausing to allow her a moment of drunken pride in that statement, “have you seen Cherry anywhere?”

She snorted and gave a sidelong smirk to Hancock and MacCready, who had pulled up to hear Deacon’s question. He bristled slightly at the knowing looks that the trio exchanged. He didn’t like that he was easy to read at that moment, but his need to find his partner was greater than his image preservation.

After a beat, Piper looked back at him, “I saw her walk outside with Danse about ten minutes ago. He looked pretty upset… I think she went to comfort him.”

“In more ways than one,” Hancock ribbed, taking another puff of jet with a grin.

A pang of jealousy struck down Deacon’s back, but he refused to give them any more fuel for their drunken fires. The hangover tomorrow would be enough punishment.

“Hey thanks, Piper.” He said semi-sincerely, and pushed away from the wall he was leaning on. Then, as he turned to walk away, he decided to indulge just a little and snarked over his shoulder, “Hey Hancock, don’t look now, but I think you lost your nose.”

“Oh SHIT!” He heard Hancock exclaim, followed by doubled-over cackling from MacCready and a resigned, “...Really?” from Piper.

But Deacon couldn’t revel in his mayhem at that moment. Not when the image of Danse making a move on Charmer was burning into his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       Deacon stepped out of the rundown bar and sighed a relief at the cool autumn air that chased away the humidity in the building.

      He quickly scanned the immediate area, making sure that they hadn’t just stepped to the side. But they were nowhere to be found. Deacon knew that would be the case. Charmer didn’t like to have personal conversations where others could hear— especially when it was one of her companions who needed to talk. She was considerate like that… it was one of the many reasons Deacon had grown so close to her in the first place.

       The scanning of the street had been more of a procrastination tactic than an actual attempt to find Charmer. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared as hell that he was going to happen upon something he _really_ didn’t want to see.

      But the longer he waited, the greater chance that would happen. So, he took a deep breath and began the walk over to Charmer’s house.

      The first thing he noticed was that all the lights were off. Which could mean that no one was in the house, or… _they don’t need the lights on._ Deacon’s face twisted at the thought. He wanted to tell himself that he was being ridiculous, but then he saw that the front door was wide open.

      Every nerve in his body screamed for him to turn around and walk away, that he wasn’t going to like what would happen if he walked through that door.

       But Deacon had never been a very logical man, so he quietly stepped onto her doorstep and started through the threshold. And never made it any further.

Deacon halted in the doorway, stomach dropping down to his feet as his sunglass-darkened gaze still managed to pick up every detail of the dimly lit scene before him.

Danse was leaning over the kitchen table, hands planted firmly on the dusty plastic table. In between his arms were Charmer’s hips, scooted to the edge of the surface so that her torso could stretch up and allow her face to tilt into the former Paladin’s lips.

Deacon’s body acted for him, turning his head quickly to the side before he could take in the tangle of her legs within Danse’s, or the placement of her hands on his body.

Then, unwilling to confront any of what he was seeing, Deacon turned on his heel and practically sprinted from the room. He couldn't bring himself to care that at that moment, he was the least inconspicuous spy in the world. All that mattered was that he get as far away from whatever was happening in Charmer’s house, as soon as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deacon lifted the hand that had been damaged by his assault on the railing and grimaced at the chunks of wood jutting out of it. He had no right to be as upset as he was. He waited too long. It was only right that she moved on with her life and found someone to give her the affection he had failed to deliver. And yet, he was livid.

Charmer was his partner. _His._ And that meathead jock had his self-hating bigot hands all over her. It drove him absolutely crazy. Deacon had no idea how to process any of the emotions he was feeling, and he was feeling _a lot_ of them. It was very _un-Deacon_ of him.

He began to pick absently at his splinters. Charmer was probably already in bed with Danse, forgetting all about the Railroad and their mission and _him_.

But, as soon as the paranoia formed in Deacon’s head, there was a distinct crunch of leaves on the ground behind him. _Or she’s right behind me._

Sure enough, he heard the quiet, anxious sigh that she always had before beginning a difficult conversation. This was not going to go well.

“Deacon?” Charmer’s voice was cautious, brimming with worry, “Are you alright?”

If he had been in a better mood, he would have made a joke-- shot her an award-winning smile and say that he was out there, seeing if he could give himself night-vision by staring hard enough into the darkness.

But instead, what came out was a mirthless laugh and a flat accusation. “Danse, Charmer? Really… _Danse?_ ”

Charmer stepped back, caught off-guard by the uncharacteristically judgemental tone of his voice. She had known something was wrong the minute that they had left the bunker, but she hadn’t realized it was because of something she had done.

“That’s really none of your business,” Cherry reprimanded quietly.

Deacon let out another disbelieving ghost of a laugh and wheeled around to face her. For a brief moment, he leveled her with a look that could crack the bridge beneath them with its weight. But then his walls shot up and Deacon broke into the biggest shit-eating grin possible and replied emphatically, “Yep! You’re right. My bad! It really is _none_ of my business. Plus, now that we know he’s a synth, maybe he can join the Railroad and be your new partner! That would totally free up my time to work on all those knitting projects I’ve been dying to start!”

But Cherry didn’t flinch under his blasé jab. She simply looked at him sadly, until Deacon was the one who began to falter, turning away from her to tear chunks of rotted wood from the railing.

Then, Cherry finally spoke. Her voice was shaking with nerves, but strong nonetheless. “Deacon, you kissed me the day that I got back from The Institute.”

His shoulders tensed at the reminder, but he didn’t pause as he started to throw the wood chippings as far as they could go.

“And we’ve had a few moments since then. But I can’t keep waiting for _moments.”_ She paused and took a steadying breath. Quietly, she continued, “...And I can’t just keep waiting for you to give me something you clearly don’t want to give.”

Cherry stood staring at the side of his head, after that. She didn’t know what she expected him to say-- but something, _anything_ would be better than the silence that grew larger and more poignant with each passing moment.

But, the sound of another woodchip hitting the water signaled that the conversation was over. Deacon didn’t have anything to say to her-- no apology, no defense, no joke to save their friendship and diffuse the situation. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned on her heel and left.

Which left him standing alone on the bridge; looking and feeling like the biggest jackass in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cherry paced agitatedly around her room, frustration with Deacon spurring her to attempt to clean the dusty, decayed remains of the space. She had tried and failed before, but somehow at that moment, she believed that things would be different if she tried just a little bit harder.

But it was to no avail. Her furniture wouldn’t polish, her wallpaper wouldn’t clean, and she couldn’t sweep away the thought of Deacon out on that bridge.

He had no right, _no right_ to criticize her for being with Danse. Deacon had been the one to put the kibosh on their relationship, and he was not stupid enough to expect her to pine for him forever. But then again, with his behavior on the bridge, maybe he _was_ that much of an idiot.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed in exasperation, throwing down her rag with such force that, although impossible, she half expected it to shatter.

“Hey, that’s my line.”

She startled at the sound of Deacon’s voice behind her. The bastard sure knew how to come and go unnoticed. If they had been doing a mission she would have reveled in it, but at that moment she wished she had some sort of warning so that she could turn tail and run. Normally, she was all for communication; however, the last few hours had been stressful and confusing enough that she had no idea how to proceed with him.

But it was too late. Her fingernails cut into her palms as she squeezed them into fists. Then, she crossed her arms and turned to face him.

Deacon was looking at her with cautious eyes. Much to her surprise, his sunglasses had been removed, placed on her bedside table as he leaned into the doorway. She had only had the privilege of seeing his eyes on a few occasions: when she woke up before him on a mission and caught him as he yawned and turned to grab them; the few times when they had a mission that made his accessory choice entirely out of place for his cover; and the one time that a super mutant suicider blew them clean off of his face. She had cradled him in her arms, begging into unfocused eyes for him to stay with her.

And although this was obviously a gesture of trust and sincerity on Deacon’s end, and a rare occasion for Cherry, neither of them seemed to be able to hold the eye contact. Cherry averted her eyes to the abused rag on the dresser, and Deacon busied himself with the sight of his scuffed shoes.

The vast silence from the bridge returned, though the feeling of it had become less tense and more anxious.

“I’m sorry.”

He spoke so low that she could barely be sure of what he said, but she knew from his body language that it had been a serious apology. Something very rarely given from Deacon.

“This… _stuff…_ It isn’t easy for me. When Barbara died, I didn’t think I would ever care about anyone again. I locked that door up tight. And threw away the key.” He sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck before continuing with increased earnesty, “...But then you wandered out of the past and into my life, and you’re so _you_ that I can’t help but care so damn much that it scares me. But the problem is that I just don’t know how to open back up. I don’t think I _can._ ”

Silence settled between the two as Cherry took in his words. There was a sense of relief with his confession-- she had been waiting since their first kiss for him to say something like that. But there was also a sense of uneasy anticipation for what Deacon would do next. Though his words had been an admission of feelings, it didn’t feel like the start of anything. It felt like the end. He had said that he didn’t know how to open up-- and usually when someone like Deacon was faced with an impossible situation, their solution was to remove themselves from it.

Deacon had always joked about bugging out and being on his own-- Cherry had laughed it off and rolled her eyes because she knew that he wouldn’t dare leave her alone with all of this. But _now_ … he was close to the door, and the way that the toe of his tennis shoe was pointed towards the ground, it seemed like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Deacon,” Cherry began, her voice wavering with a crack that caused his eyes to snap back to hers with concern. She gripped her wrist and knit her brows together to steel against fear and anxiety, and continued, “I loved you the moment that I met you. But if this is too much for you, I would rather have my best friend than nothing at all.”

Deacon stood dumbfounded in the wake of her confession. They had never been this open and honest with each other. Sure, Charmer had always been upfront with her ideals and how she felt about her past, and Deacon had allowed her more insight into his own inner-workings than anyone before. But this was an entirely different ballpark.

Their relationship had always been an unspoken bond. It was something that was as natural and understood as the Earth’s gravitational pull, something that they had let exist without prodding or throwing off the balance… at least until today. And standing there, staring into the deep hazel eyes of the woman who was willing to put aside her feelings to restore the equilibrium of that gravity, Deacon suddenly didn’t care what would happen if they were together. All he wanted was to make her as happy as he possibly could.

With one more steadying breath, Deacon straightened up and determinedly started towards her. It took only a few strides to close the distance between them, but each step felt like an eternity. Finally, he was planted in front of Cherry, sliding his arm around her waist and cupping her cheek as he tilted her face up to meet his lips.

It was much less desperate than their first kiss; he pressed his mouth against Cherry’s with a steadying presence, his hand sliding back from her cheek to anchor in her hair. This time, Deacon wasn’t doing this out of a swell of emotion that had grabbed him in the moment. No, this kiss was deliberate. He was taking his time, conveying that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not without her.

But Cherry had different, more passionate ideas.

She sighed deeply into the kiss, pulling his body flush against hers to get as much physical contact with him as their clothing would allow. The tip of her tongue glided across his bottom lip as her knee nudged in between his legs, allowing her hips to roll against his.

Deacon groaned at the feeling, catching on to the fact that the romance of the moment had been nice, but Cherry was looking to start the new facet of their relationship off with a bang. And Deacon was more than happy to give that idiom a more literal meaning.

His hands slid down to her hips for a moment, and then to her ass; gripping tight, he hoisted her up to his waist which freed her to wrap her legs around him. Once she was securely in place, Deacon walked them backwards. He pressed her against the wall and growled into her mouth. The need he felt was growing with each moment, and with the way that she was ducking down and nipping at his throat, he could tell she felt the same.

“Cherry, I don’t think I can handle much more of this,” Deacon grunted between gritted teeth.

She pulled away from his neck with a salacious pop and looked down at him with a smirk that sent a shudder through his entire body.

Then, slowly, she leaned forward and whispered against his lips with a rock of her hips, “take me to the bed.”

Deacon coughed out a disbelieving, excited laugh before starting forward. He didn’t need to be told twice, but he couldn’t help but imagine the look on Des’ face if she heard about any of this. There was fraternization and then there was _this._ This challenge from the untamed woman in his arms to take every rule in the book and tear it up for her. And by God, Deacon was never one to turn down a challenge, Railroad be damned.

Deacon’s knees slammed into the edge of her bed, sending the two of them crashing into the comforter with mutual gasps of shock.

Cherry beamed up at him with a giddy, yet hungry expression as she panted underneath the weight of her partner’s body.

Deacon grinned right back at her, taking the moment of calm before the storm to soak in the perfect flush of her cheeks, her kiss-ripened lips that were parted just for him, and the half-lidded look of expectancy that was too much for him to handle.

With one last nod of consent from Cherry, Deacon slid his hands along her body, down to her legs. He massages her thighs for a moment, reveling in the soft feel of her skin, before slipping his hands up into the fabric of her dress, pulling it off as he made his way back to eye level with her.

“You have the most amazing body,” he breathed reverently after tugging the dress over her head.

She smiled a crooked smile and rolled her eyes, “Hasn’t anyone told you that’s the most cliché compliment in the book?”

“Well,” Deacon began, punctuating every couple words with a soft kiss on her neck, “I’ve always been one for the classics. I mean… look at you. You’re practically vintage.”

He expected a snappy comeback or a snarky roll of her eyes— but what came instead was a rough, full-bodied kiss that allowed Cherry to swing him flat on his back.

Cherry pressed her hips against his, drawing a muffled grunt deep in Deacon’s throat. She grinned against his lips at the genuine reaction. With all of his bits and joking it was refreshing to have him be open like that. Frankly, it was a bit of a turn on.

She pulled back slowly to look down at him. A sly, hungry expression adorned her face, and Deacon swallowed hard. He was used to seeing the fire in her eyes on the battlefield, and it was never directed towards him like _this._

His throat felt thick with anticipation as Cherry tugged his shirt over his head and began to trail her fingers lightly down his body, her lips following suit with a deliberate trail of nipping kisses.

When she was positioned at the edge of his pants, Cherry met his lustful, half-lidded gaze with a devilish look in her eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she took the corner of the fabric between her teeth and pulled back, causing the jeans to open with a _snap_. Then came his zipper; slowly sliding down, leaving a tantalizingly metallic taste on Cherry’s tongue.

Deacon helped her as she tugged off the fabric, cool air serving a shocking contrast to the building heat of the moment.

He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he heard Cherry let out an impressed puff of air at the sight of him. But the thought was quickly replaced with an immediate wave of pleasure as she wrapped her fingers around him and swirled her thumb over his tip. Deacon groaned softly and let his head fall back against her pillows.

Cherry then started in earnest, sliding her hand up and down his length with a slight twist in her wrist for a few moments before bending down to follow with a swipe of her tongue.

“Oh _fuck.”_

She took him entirely into her mouth after that, bobbing her head down as far as she could manage. It was strange doing this for someone who wasn’t Nate-- but Deacon seemed to be enjoying the techniques that had worked so well for her late husband. Her tongue slipped along the ridge that ran through his entire length, sucking hard as she moved towards the sensitive tip. Her hand followed suit, applying a firm pressure as she twisted up his shaft. Deacon made low, guttural noises in his throat as Cherry went, breathing hitching as he hit the back of her throat. Cherry was more than self-satisfied with how quickly she had gotten Deacon going. It had only been about ten minutes and he was already seeming to teeter towards the edge of release.  

Sure enough, only a moment later, his hand came to rest on her shoulder, stalling her movements. “As much as I love all of this,” Deacon started in a shaky voice, “if you keep up all this teasing, we’re going to have a very short evening... It’s been a _long_ time.”

Cherry pulled back with every intention to point out that her two-hundred and eleven years was a lot longer than whatever his number was, but the raw lust she saw in his eyes was enough for her words to die on her lips.

Which Deacon then took as an opportunity to pull them both up to their knees. With movements so seductively slow that it nearly drove Cherry mad, Deacon undressed her. He pressed his lips softly to hers just once before slipping his hands down her back, taking the zipper of her dress with them.

The cool fabric was replaced by warm, smooth skin as Deacon slid the garment from her body. He had admittedly pictured this moment more times than was probably okay, but it was nothing like the real thing. Her body was breathtaking in a way that Deacon had only seen in old world mags.

“Charmer really _was_ the perfect code name for you,” he breathed in reverence. He laid his partner on her back and mimicked her motions from before, pressing soft kisses to each sensitive point on her body.

He took his time, tracing the artery in her throat with his tongue, tasting her quickened pulse before stooping down to lave the hardened peaks of her breasts.

The soft moan that came from deep in Cherry’s throat broke his concentration, his own arousal begging him to get to the point already. So he did. He leaned back on his knees and looked down at her to watch as he stroked his fingers down her tensed form. A wicked grin forming when he reached her tight, wet core and began to circle his thumb around her clit.

Cherry puffed out a shocked breath and gripped her sheets. It really _had_ been a long time if that got her going.

Deacon smiled wickedly and leaned down, bringing his hand down to slip slowly into her core as he replaced his thumb with his tongue.

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” Cherry choked out in response, her hand coming down to hold his head as he hungrily licked her into a frenzy.

If he hadn’t been so invested, Deacon definitely would have made a dumb joke about being good enough in bed to be the Messiah of it, but the entirety of his focus was drilled into each movement that brought Cherry closer and closer to release.

Her thighs tensed against his ears, heels digging into the bed so her hips could arch against his face.

“Fuck, Deacon, I’m so close,” she panted out, becoming more and more frantic.

He pressed deeper into her, then; the come-hither motions of his fingers making her breath hitch. And with a few more swipes of his tongue, she came to her climax.

It was as if all the tension she had held since she came into the Commonwealth had pooled into her core before bursting in an explosion of pleasure. She was left tingling, stars dancing in her vision from the aftermath. But she didn’t want to give into the relaxation,  not yet.

“Deacon,” she croaked, pulling her grinning partner up to eye level.

“You want to tell me how well I did, Boss?”

She smirked back at him, “I’ll tell you all about it after you’ve _fucked_ me.”

Deacon bit his lip and waggled his brows, “Your wish is my strong recommendation.”

He kissed her hungrily, then, all lips and teeth as he slid his hands across her breasts and down her body to position himself at her core. With one more sloppy press of his lips, Deacon looked down at her.

“You ready?”

Her eager nod of confirmation was all he needed. He pressed his length into her with one swift movement, causing Cherry to hiccup and grasp at his back.

Deacon groaned at the feeling of warmth and wet; _God_ he missed this. Slowly, he began to move inside her, thrusting his hips against hers until her breath evened out and the tension drained from her limbs.

Then they were moving together. Cherry brought her legs up to hook across his back, angling so that he could press in as deeply as he could. Thank God everyone was down the street at the bar, because the thin walls of Cherry’s house could not contain the sound of expletives and moans that filled her room.

“Deacon,” she gasped as he sucked at her neck, “flip over.” He relented without speaking, swinging them over so that he landed flat on his back without breaking contact. “How did you get so good at this?”

He laughed at that and shrugged, “all that combat experience is pretty easy to translate into the bedroom. You can thank the Railroad.”

She panted and leaned back on his hips, “remind me to tell Desdemona next time we see her.”

Cherry shifted forward then, simultaneously grinding her core against him whilst sliding forward for his benefit. His guttural groans and hands gripping her ass conveyed that she was pretty fucking fantastic at what she was doing, too. She knew.

And with a burst of pride, she began to buck forward faster, bringing her closer to her second release of the evening. The familiar pooling of tension built much deeper this time; feeling Deacon inside of her brought on a more intense climb. There was nothing superficial or rushed in that moment.

“Oh God, Deacon. You feel so good.” Her breathing and movements quickened, hips grinding harder than before, chasing the promise of unfiltered pleasure.

Waves crashed over her as she came, the undertow pulling her into a weightless tumble of emotion and satisfaction. She was only vaguely aware that Deacon was still there as she came down, boneless and in a state of complete ecstasy.

But Deacon hadn’t forgotten. And her climax spurred him much closer to his own. He sat up and slid one hand into Cherry’s hair, bracing his weight against the bed with the other. Then he began to thrust into her roughly.

The movements were almost feral with how desperate they seemed to be for satisfaction, but Cherry was so connected him in the moment that she didn’t mind the pressure of his fingers or the pull of her hair; she actually welcomed it.

“Deacon, come for me,” Cherry whispered as she cradled his head against her chest.

He let out a deep growl and repositioned them once again, allowing him to drill even deeper into her as she lay flat on her back. The squeeze of her legs against his hips and the drags of her nails along his muscled back causing the threat of release to tease in the fuzzy haze in front of his eyes.

Deacon was never a man to let himself lose control in any situation, but the feeling of Cherry was more than he could handle. His hips lost their rhythm, his breath became groans, and with a few more pumps of his hips, he came undone.

“ _Cherry_ ,” he cried out as he came, spilling himself inside of her with an intensity that he had forgotten he could feel.

She laughed breathily as he rolled off of her, attempting to reclaim some semblance of his cool personality.

They had both needed this, _badly._ With all the death and destruction and the attempt to keep their relationship professional, not to mention the lack of physical affection…. It was a marvel that they hadn’t broken under the tension before that night.

After a few moments, Deacon reached out to pull Cherry against his chest, placing a kiss on top of her head. This was the happiest he had been in _years_ , and though she had admitted her love for him, Deacon could only hope that she felt how he did. But as they laid there, he couldn’t help the needling thought at the back of his mind that things could have ended very differently had he not come to find her.

With a few more moments of silence as he contemplated asking, Deacon formed the dumbest way to put his jealousy to rest, once and for all.

“So, what?,” he began nonchalantly, “You were just going to be with Racist Buzz Lightyear just because I have commitment issues?”

Cherry pulled back to roll her eyes at him and smirk, “It was more of an ‘any port in a storm’ kind of situation. You weren’t willing to take the leap and Danse is hot.”

Deacon dropped his jaw in mock offense, but Cherry just leaned forward and gave him a peck on the nose. “Don’t worry, you’re hotter.”

He scrunched up his face and leaned away. “Oh my God, I don’t even know what it was like to be a teenager back in your day, but I feel like I just got a taste.”

“You know, it was a little something like this,” she confirmed, laying her head back down on his chest with a content sigh.

For a good while, they remained like that, fingers softly tracing nonsensical patterns into each others’ skin, basking in a moment that wasn’t filled with death or destruction. It was the calmest that either of them had felt in months.

“You know,” Deacon began, finally breaking the silence, “I may not like Danse a whole lot… because of the whole bigot thing? But I’m really glad he’s out from under the Brotherhood’s influence. Especially before we take them down.”

Cherry paused before responding, the weight of the world suddenly coming crashing back down on them. “Yeah… before we take them down.”

Deacon sensed the shift in the moment and instantly kicked himself for it. It was so hard for him to let go of the _mission_ \-- the only thing that had possessed his mind for the past ten years. But now he had something more to focus his energy on, and there was no way in hell he was going to screw this up.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, stroking Cherry’s hair, “I didn’t mean to rain on our parade. We don’t have to think about that right now.”

She nodded softly and kissed the crook of his neck, and then snorted with sudden laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Deacon probed with a grin, lifting Cherry’s face to look at him.

“I’m just thinking about how badly Danse is gonna kick your ass when he finds out that I chose you over him.”

“Wait, no… that’s not funny,” Deacon protested, pulling away from her with a frown.

“It totally is,” She insisted, prodding his side with her fingers, pleasantly surprised when he scooted back with a yelp.

“No way, you’re ticklish?” Cherry beamed, sitting up and forming her hands into menacing weapons.

Deacon held up a finger and shook his head, “I will go tell MacCready that you have a crush on him if you don’t knock it off.”

But it was too late. Cherry pounced on him with a war cry and tickled him until they were both shaking with laughter; the Institute, Brotherhood, and Railroad fading away once more. And for a blissful night full of love, nothing in the entirety of the Commonwealth mattered more than those two best friends finally finding their way to each other.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my second piece in the series of firsts! (If this is the first one you read, welcome!)
> 
> Hopefully, you liked it!
> 
> Let me know in the comments what you liked/what I can improve!
> 
> And always, please leave kudos if you enjoyed it!!!!!
> 
> Also, thank you Kat for being my beta and editor!
> 
> My tumblr: koenigs-bambina.tumblr.com


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